


How to build a nest.

by TheStrange_One



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Nesting, Omega Wade Wilson, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:00:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28935912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: 5 Times Peter built Wade a nest + 1 time Wade built a nest for Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 370





	How to build a nest.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Structure of a Nest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212690) by [TheStrange_One](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One). 



> I've read a lot of these 5+1 fics and I wanted to contribute, but didn't really have anything to contribute until I got inspired by a one-shot I wrote as a Christmas present. Please enjoy.

The first time it happened, Peter didn’t think too much of it.

Why would he? He’d been fighting alongside Deadpool for months at that point, had even seen the merc’s wings after a particularly bad battle. (Both better and worse than Deadpool seemed to think. Better—because they didn’t make Peter want to vomit and run away, but worse because they aroused instincts in him that he thought had died a long time ago.) So, when Deadpool was killed in battle and didn’t wake up immediately, taking him home was the first thing that Peter thought of.

He hauled Deadpool’s huge body (and Peter wasn’t even counting the wings) all the way across the city to Deadpool’s current apartment. Like Peter, Deadpool always kept his window open. (Unlike Peter, Deadpool had heat in his little abode.) Peter carefully placed Deadpool’s body on the couch and was about to leave when it occurred to him.

Deadpool was an omega. Omegas felt more comfortable in their nests, as a general rule. Wouldn’t Deadpool like to wake up in _his_ nest?

Mind firmly made up, Peter went to the bedroom. It was—chaotic. Messy. No organization. Nothing that Peter recognized as a nest.

Peter frowned under his mask. “That’s odd,” he muttered as he looked around. Maybe—maybe Deadpool just _didn’t_ nest? No, more likely he didn’t feel like this apartment was _home_ enough to feel safe enough to nest.

No worries. Peter, despite being an alpha, was _very_ good at building nests. He got to work.

As he cleaned and sorted the soft things into a nest he hoped the omega would find pleasing, he wondered what kind of wings Deadpool had. They were so covered in twisted scar tissue that it was impossible to tell. (Also impossible for Deadpool to fly.) He wondered if the merc would tell him, if he asked.

Probably best to hold that question off until after he’d shared his identity with the merc. And it was probably best to hold _that_ conversation off until later. Telling him now, right while regenerating, smacked uncomfortably like manipulation.

Peter finished the nest and stepped back, looking at it in satisfaction. It was, in his opinion, a good nest. The edges were just close enough to cup the body while leaving room to stretch out while the inside was lined with the softest materials he could find. It was a perfect nest for his omega.

His _friend_. Deadpool was just a friend. Peter couldn't afford to forget that.

He put Deadpool in the nest, making sure that the merc’s heavy, built body wasn’t lying in such a way as to cramp either his wings or his arms. Can’t enjoy a nest if you can’t feel your limbs, right? Right.

Might as well clean the rest of the apartment while he was at it. He hoped Deadpool’s landlord didn’t mind the dumpster overflowing, because there was a _lot_ of garbage. Did Deadpool eat anything other than take-out? And why were there so many _Finders Keepers_ boxes? He wasn’t sure what to do with the toys that were everywhere, so he laid them out on the (now clean) tables and entertainment center.

Man, what Peter wouldn't do for a setup like that…

A noise alerted him to movement in the bedroom and he rushed over to see Deadpool sitting up. The merc was pawing tentatively at the edges of the nest. It was only at that moment that it occurred to Peter that Deadpool might not like having his living space invaded. “I hope you don’t mind the nest,” he said tentatively. “I just—I thought it would make you more comfortable.”

“You built it?” asked Deadpool, without looking up.

Try as he might, Peter couldn't read tone into the voice. Was Deadpool upset? Happy? What? “Do you mind?” he asked shyly. “I know you didn’t have a nest, and I didn’t want to upset you. I just—thought you’d—like waking up in a nest.”

Deadpool looked up. “It—it’s _wonderful_!” he said, blue eyes open wide and shining.

The second time it happened they were locked into Avengers Tower. Everyone was stressed. “What do you mean, ‘we can’t get out’?” demanded Deadpool as his hands twitched towards the guns on his hips.

Tony frowned as he looked at the merc. “Did I stutter? No, of course not, I don’t stutter. I mean, ‘the Tower is locked down, and there is no way out.’ There? Do you understand it now?”

Peter put a hand on the masked man’s arm. “Hey,” he said. Deadpool jerked away from Tony and turned, muttering to himself.

Oh, that was bad. He hadn’t had a lapse like that in quite some time. “Look, I know you’re doing everything you can,” Peter told Tony firmly. “I also know that people live here. Is there a—a spare room or something? Deadpool and I have both had very long days, and would like to rest.”

Tony waved dismissively. “Yeah, sure. “Knock yourselves out. Follow the blinking green lights on the walls.”

Peter looked and, sure enough, there was a series of little green dots blinking on the walls. He nodded. “Thank you,” he said. He put a hand on Deadpool’s back and gently steered the merc in the direction the lights were indicating.

“Anyone else going to comment on how Spider-Man and Deadpool seem to be an item?” asked someone. Peter thought it might be Clint, but he wasn’t certain.

“No,” said Peter firmly as he led Deadpool to the room. Deadpool began pacing, clearly agitated when they got in the room. It looked like a fancy hotel suite, so Peter went looking for more bedclothes. Then, he firmly built a nest for Deadpool. He knew the omega was too agitated to build one for himself.

“Here,” Peter said, interrupting. Deadpool whirled, saw the nest—and his eyes got big. Well, the eyes of his mask got big.

Deadpool hesitantly went over to the nest. Just like the first time, he poked it with a finger. “For—me?” he asked. His voice was unnaturally thin and hesitant.

“Of course,” said Peter. He ignored how his heart warmed to see his omega—

—his _friend_. Deadpool was his _friend_. He had to remember that—

—climb into the nest and curl up with a satisfied sigh. “Good?” Peter asked.

Deadpool gave a lazy hum. “Almost perfect.”

A chill filled Peter’s chest. Almost? _Almost?_ What was wrong? “What would make it perfect?” he asked.

Deadpool hesitated. Then he flipped one of his wings back and held out an arm. “Join me?” he asked quietly.

The chill thawed quickly and Peter let out a pleased rumble. His omega— _friend—_ wanted him in the nest too. “Of course,” he said warmly as he climbed in next the merc. As he snuggled close he noticed that there were odd twitches in Deadpool’s muscles. Something about them sparked a memory… “Deadpool,” he said slowly, “are you—are you touch starved?”

“Maybe,” caged the merc. He started twitching in more than just the random muscle twitches.

Peter’s heart twisted. “Hey,” he said gently as he wrapped arms and wings around the merc. His own wings, hidden by the spandex, didn’t stretch quite the way he wanted them to, but he didn’t dare take it off. Not yet. Perhaps later. The twitches slowly stopped and Deadpool relaxed, snuggling his head where Peter’s glands were despite that he couldn't smell them through the suit. After a quick moment of deliberation, Peter raised his mask enough that the scent could flow and felt Deadpool relax a bit more. “You can always call me,” Peter said.

 _I’m always here for you_ , he didn’t say. He couldn't, not yet. It was the wrong time; if he said it now it would be like he was emotionally manipulating Deadpool, and he didn’t want to do that. No. He wanted the relationship between them to mature naturally.

“Wade,” Deadpool whispered.

“What?” asked Peter, startled.

“My name is Wade.”

Peter smiled and let out another, deeper pleased rumble. “Nice to meet you, Wade,” Peter said softly, for Wade’s ears only. “My name’s Peter.”

The third time, Wade asked him to.

Peter noticed that Wade was twitching a bit on patrol. Nothing bad, nothing serious—just little things. Like his fingers. His feet. His head. It was a slow night and Peter stopped, both of them on a roof outside of public view. He reached up and gently laid a hand on Wade, right at the crook of the neck, where one of Wade’s scent glands were. Wade let out a low whine even as he brought a hand up to keep the hand there.

More comfortable in their budding relationship, Peter asked softly, “What do you need, Wade?”

Wade whined again before burrowing his head into Peter’s own neck. He couldn't scent anything through the suits, but the action seemed to comfort him. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

What? Why in the world would Wade think Peter would hate him? Sure, they’d had their moments in the beginning, but he’d thought they were past that now. “What’s going through your head?” he asked softly.

Wade gave a low whine before the words tumbled out of him. “I moved again and wanted a nest but I can’t make a nest, but alphas hate omegas that can’t nest and I wanted to ask you but I don’t want you to hate me.”

Wade couldn't nest? Not “didn’t,” but “couldn’t?” How did he function? Peter knew how important nests were; even some betas had them. Poor Wade. No wonder he was twitchy.

Peter reached up with his free arm and hugged Wade even as he throttled down his alpha side, which was humming in pleasure at the thought that Wade _wanted_ Peter to make him a nest. It was an act between friends. Wade needed something, so he was asking for help. “I don’t hate you,” he reassured the omega. “And I’d love to build you a nest.”

He’d like nothing more, a fact he was trying not to acknowledge.

Wade nodded, but didn’t move and Peter began rubbing his back through the suit. “You’re doing so good,” he praised. Wade made a small sound of disagreement. “No, you are. You had something you wanted to ask me, and you _did_.” Wade pulled back a little and Peter raised his hand to the older man’s face. “I said you could,” he reminded the merc.

Wade nodded. “You did. I just—can’t believe it sometimes.”

Peter understood. He never thought he’d meet anyone with a lower sense of self-image than what he had, but Wade made him look positively well adjusted. He knew that sometimes it was just hard to believe that there was someone there, someone who had his back. Hell, sometimes _he_ still wondered if Wade was going to get mad and leave him because sometimes it felt like Peter had nothing to contribute to their relationship. Wade got him food, helped him patrol, thought nothing of making snarky quips that made Peter grin and laugh, and even patched Peter up from time to time when patrols got too dangerous.

But Wade was still with Peter, and Peter was still with Wade. Somehow, they were making the odd dynamic _work_. Somehow, they still cared for and loved each other. (Liked. Liked each other. They were still just friends.)

In one of the abrupt shifts of mood, Wade let go of Peter and whirled. “Whelp!” he said. “Not getting it done standing around here!”

“Very true. Lead the way, o noble mercenary,” quipped Peter.

Wade snorted. “Noble! I’ll show you noble. Try to keep up!” Wade jumped off the side of the building, fired a grappling hook towards another—and promptly face planted into the brick wall as Peter collapsed into laughter. He swung out and grabbed Deadpool before he had a chance to fall into the street below.

“New plan,” Peter said, amused. “I carry you, and you give me directions.”

“Deal.”

Wade managed to scramble onto Peter’s back, and gave him directions through the city. Pete was surprised at the new place. It was in a much better neighborhood from Wade’s normal choices, and it was oddly clean. Not clean in the I-haven’t-had-time-to-mess-it-up yet clean, but clean as in the weapons were put away. Peter stood on the (barely dirty) floor and looked around with deep appreciation. “Looks good,” he approved.

Wade looked away as Peter removed his mask. (Wade still wasn’t comfortable removing his own mask yet, but Peter didn’t push him. “Thanks, Pete,” Wade said nervously. He led Peter to the bedroom and waited.

Peter had never built a nest for an audience before. Even when he’d dated before, the omegas he’d dated had insisted that he keep his hands away from their nests. Peter agreed as mildly as possible, although he itched. He knew he wasn’t like most alphas. Most alphas weren’t able to build nests, and didn’t feel the need. But Peter did.

And having ~~his omega~~ best friend Wade stand there, ooing and ahing over every move—well, it was a good feeling. A warm feeling. Something he hadn’t felt before. He also felt the need to show off, so he made a show of measuring Wade’s wings (he already knew their measurements by heart) in order to make the nest curve properly around them.

~~That warm, possessive feeling only got stronger when Wade climbed into the nest he’d built.~~

Wade wiggled in the nest and sighed. Then, hesitantly—like he thought that Peter would really tell him “no”—he reached out a hand to Peter in a silent invitation. Peter grinned and climbed into the nest with Wade, snuggling him close until the twitches evened out and Wade eventually fell asleep.

The fourth time, Peter just took over.

Peter had just gotten his paycheck from his new job (no more selling to the Bugle!), and wanted to celebrate. He got dinner from that Mexican food cart that Wade liked, sodas from a corner store, and made his way to Wade’s apartment. He ignored the niggling feeling of satisfaction at being able to feed ~~his omega~~ Wade.

Wade had decided to keep the apartment that he’d asked Peter to build him a nest in. While Peter had nothing against Wade changing apartments every few weeks, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched that Wade wanted to keep this one. He worked together with the older man to keep the apartment somewhat clean and presentable.

(He’d also started moving some of his stuff in. Not too much, not too fast, just some of it. Wade hadn’t said anything, but he might not have noticed yet.)

“Wade?” he called as he entered. “Are you home? I got food!”

He was putting the bags on the table when he heard it: furious scratching noises and a low, pained whine. “Wade?” Peter rushed to the source of the sounds. They were coming from—the linen closet? What? Peter opened the door and Wade sat up, pupils rapidly expanding and contracting as his eyes pinned in distress.

Wade’s wings were pinned back with a painful looking sash as a tie, he was in his soft clothes—worn cotton sweats that were almost threadbare, and his hands and feet were both bare and dirty. His muscles twitched randomly under the skin, as though thousands of small insects were biting him. He was also sitting on top of what looked like every cover from the bedroom.

“Oh, Wade,” sighed Peter sadly. He reached out. It took everything he had not to react when Wade flinched away from him, hearing the omega whine softly in distress. “Come on,” he gently urged as he untied Wade’s wings. He got Wade out of the closet and gathered the bedding before leading Wade to the bedroom.

It looked like a tornado had gone off in there. Drawers had been pulled from the dresser and dumped on the floor, clothes had been yanked from the closet, things that had been on the tops of the dresser or the end tables were now on the floor, both end tables were on their sides. For a moment, Peter just stared at the damage, wondering what happened.

It didn’t matter what happened. Peter shoved his way through the mess, cleared off the bed with one arm, and quickly began making Wade a nest. Wade, like last time, stood there watching. This time he made a series of nonverbal sounds and Peter was worried. What could possibly have happened in the last eight hours? What was wrong with Wade?

The nest was soon done and Wade rushed past Peter to hop in, curling up on one side. He reached out for Peter, making nonverbal want noises and Peter got into the nest with him, gently running his hands over Wade’s neck, shoulders, wings. Slowly, the twitches stopped. Slowly, Wade began to relax. Slowly, Wade began to purr.

Wade pushed his head into Peter’s chest like a cat and then looked up. “Petey?” he asked.

Peter ran a gentle thumb where Wade’s eyebrow would be if he had them. “Yeah?” he asked.

Wade buried his head again. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Peter smiled. “Anytime,” he promised.

The fifth time, they were at a cabin in the woods, on a mandatory “vacation.”

They had just finished fighting yet _another_ skrull invasion when Peter and Wade got pulled aside and told that they were going on vacation. Part of Peter was pissed that he hadn’t been asked. Part of Peter was relieved that he was just going to _get away_ , just for a little while, and reset a bit.

(Peter may or may not have used the “vacation” to ditch SHIELD debriefing.)

The cabin was out in the woods, on a lake. There was only a gravel road leading from the real road to the cabin. There was no internet, no satellite, no outside communications.

It was just what the two of the needed.

Or so they thought.

“So, uh—did Tin Man tell you that there weren’t any furnishings here?” Wade asked as he dropped a duffel on the hardwood floor. (A very nice wood too; cherry stained oak if Peter was any judge.)

“No,” said Peter as he looked around at the spacious room. The wall closest to the lake was all tall windows. The room was empty of all furnishings. He put the three duffels (seriously, what did Wade pack in his?) down on the floor before going to investigate the rest of the cabin. There were four rooms, a kitchen, and an insanely tricked out bathroom. The room had a giant in floor jacuzzi in the shape of a clam shell, a large shower stall, two toilets, and a urinal.

What there wasn’t: there were no beds, no tables, no chairs. The kitchen did, however, have food, pots, and pans. The fridge, cabinets, and pantry were all stocked; there was even a huge rotating spice rack on one counter that first impressed Peter—until he realized the only spices on it were salt and pepper in lots of different colors. _Lots_ of different colors. Who knew that pepper could be pink?

Maybe it was salt that was labeled wrong. Peter ground some in a hand and tentatively licked it. Nope. It was definitely pepper. Huh.

Peter made his way back to the room where Wade was sorting through his bag. Peter leaned against the door frame for a moment and smiled at the sight of Wade pulling out a three-ring CD case full of DVDs and a portable DVD player. There was just something so heartwarming watching him putter with the items he brought.

Good thing Peter had remembered the important stuff. Peter pushed himself of the door frame to go to the bags _he’d_ packed. He pulled out sheets, pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. While Wade was muttering to himself about the pros and cons of foxes vs sentient ocean water, Peter built the two of them a nest. Since there was no furniture that they could use to prop the back up, most of the pillows went there, and Peter situated a couple of stuffed animals _just so_ in order to make it possible to prop the portable DVD player on them while they rested.

“Got it!” cheered Wade as the strains of _Which Pets_ began to play from the little speakers. He turned to show it to Peter and stared at the sight of the nest, which had appeared (to him) out of nowhere.

Once again, Peter felt nervous. Wade hadn’t rejected a nest yet, but that didn’t mean he _wouldn't_. “Do you like it?” he asked. “I thought it would make for a nicer vacation if we had our nest.” He still flushed calling the nest both of theirs.

Wade cheered once again and put the portable DVD player on top of the stuffed animals before climbing in and impatiently gesturing for Peter to join him. Peter got into the nest and snuggled up to Wade’s chest as the kitten was thanking the horse for a ride. “This is nice,” Wade said as they cuddled together, wings lying over the blankets.

“It is,” said Peter with a smile as Wade began to bob his head to the lawyer’s singing. “We’ll have to thank Tony later.”

Plus one.

Wade tried not to show that he was panicking. Peter was in the hospital bed (couldn't the Avengers keep the aliens _out_ of New York by now?), wings through the hole in the back and tucked into the tray underneath, to keep them out of the way. (And, probably, also to prevent him from moving too much and disturbing any of the hundreds of stitches that were all keeping him in one piece at the moment.

He’d never seen Peter so pale, so still, so _quiet_.

He wasn’t dying. He couldn't be dying. (Wade was praying that they’d gotten Peter to medical in time and he wasn’t actually dying.)

What could Wade do? There must be _something_. Peter was always making Wade feel better, making Wade nests—

That was it. A nest. Peter needed a nest. Wade had watched Peter make enough nests by now that surely, _surely_ he could figure out how to make one. Okay. What did he need?

Well, the nests Peter built were always bigger than the bed. Maybe if he pushed two beds together? He went into another room and started trying to move that bed. It didn’t want to budge.

“What are you doing?” demanded a nurse in scrubs, staring at him as he tried to move the bed.

He couldn't help the low whine that pressed the back of his throat. “I want to build a nest for my mate,” he complained.

The nurse sighed and shook his head. “We have gurneys you can use for that.” As Wade followed him through the halls the nurse continued, “Next time you want something for the nest, just tell someone. You’re not the first omega of an injured alpha to come through here, you know. We’re prepared for this kind of thing. Hey,” he said addressing another nurse. “Need a nesting kit in room 205.”

The other nurse pursed her lips as she pulled a file. “That’s an alpha’s room, isn’t it?”

“Omega mate,” said the first nurse with a gesture towards Wade.

“Hmm.” The second nurse looked him up and down, sizing him up. “Better get two gurneys,” she said before getting up and grabbing a third nurse.

They returned Wade to the room with two gurneys, several pillows, and sixteen blankets. They were on the thin side, and smelled strongly of antiseptic, but Wade might be able to use them. “Thank you,” he said to the nurses, who were leaving the room. The last one took a moment to show him how to lock the wheels of the gurneys and then they left him alone with Peter.

First thing: make the surface bigger. Wade started to put a gurney on each side, but was hampered on one by the machines that Peter was hooked up to. He wasn’t sure if he should mess with that. Sure, it would be nice if Peter had extra room on that side—but he didn’t want to risk the medical staff not being able to reach him if they needed to. All right, both gurneys on one side.

Then the blankets. Peter was always making walls in his nest to cup Wade’s wings, and it felt great. Wade couldn't do that for Peter, not with Peter’s wings under the hospital bed like they were, but maybe he could do something else? Wade rolled one of the blankets up tightly and tucked it under the wires but up against Peter’s arm, giving him something solid to lean against. Then he carefully placed the rest of the blankets; balling some of them up, stretching some of them out, anything he could think of that would make Peter just a little bit more comfortable.

Then the pillows. Pillows for support. Pillows for comfort. Pillows to finish out the nest.

Once done Wade climbed in and curled up next to Peter, head on his chest as he listened to the younger man breathe. He was breathing. He would be okay. He had to be okay; these were Stark’s people, and Stark had the best medical people in the field. Peter would be okay.

Wade didn’t know how long he just laid there listening to Peter’s breathing before the younger man opened his eyes and looked towards Wade. “Wade?” he asked, voice soft and raspy.

“I’m here,” said Wade, repeating the words he’d heard from Peter too many times to count.

Peter smiled and tried to wave. “Hey,” he rasped out. He looked around, lifting his head slightly. Then he smiled a sappy smile and looked at Wade. “You built a nest.”

Wade stared. Then he looked around in wonder. “I did,” he said, amazed. For the first time in his life, he’d built a nest, a _real_ nest. He hadn’t been able to build one for himself. He hadn’t been able to build one for his previous alphas. But he’d been able to build one for _Peter_.

Peter sighed and flopped his head to where he was leaning just a little closer to Wade. “Thanks,” he muttered softly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my long fics, I swear. I just needed to get this out of my head.


End file.
